Run #1305 - King Shit and Virgins and Beers... Oh My!

October 23, 2006

Hares: Suck Her Prunes, Tastes Like Chicken
Where: Key West Bar & Grill
Big Rock: $3 each!
Attendance: 45

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As miracles go, perhaps it isn't quite to the level of the University of Calgary's last-minute, 105-yard pass play that set up the game- winning TD for the Dinos' first victory of the season.

But it's close.

Against all odds, King Shit's liver actually survived 800 hash runs and walks, which only puts him 351 hashes — or about seven years' worth — behind Dreary.

King Shit was more than happy to receive a gigantic silver adidas bag to mark the milestone, although he was disappointed to learn that he won't get another award next week when he passes the 800 Rides Scammed mark.

"I thought for sure I'd get another gift, especially since I've scammed, er, talked my way into, 799 rides during my long and sometimes-illustrious hashing career," King Shit said. "Nobody can come close to that number, not even Dreary."
King Shit admitted that paying $2,400 in hash cash for the bag is quite pricey, but figures the amount he saved on gas by getting free rides helps offset it.

It was unclear exactly how many Big Rock kegs King Shit consumed to reach 800, although the company has a team of bean counters working on a reliable estimate.

King Shit's milestone took place on a pleasant late October evening at an old reliable hashing spot, the Key West bar on the west side of downtown.

Co-hares Tastes Like Chicken and Suck Her Prunes laid a trail that meandered across the 14th Street bridge, through West Hillhurst and then eventually to Kensington, across the pedestrian bridge at 10th Street and back downtown.

The hash even attracted an enthusiastic band of virgins, including a huge Montreal Habs fan, and brought out some long-lost souls, such as Rag Head, who had missed the last 50 runs, but has graciously agreed to co-hare the annual Halloween wing-ding. The virgins — Stephan, Paula, et. al — said they weren't aghast and horrified at taking part in the hash, and promised to return.

It was fortunate that RA P'Tooey, aka Mr. Viking Horn Head, survived business — especially since he was standing on furniture and periously close to getting stuck in whatever passes for the ceiling at Key West. Fortunately, he was able to dispense his wit and wisdom without getting stuck, or falling into a fake potted plant or something.

In another small miracle, Kebab actually was able to rid herself of the Kebab Memorial Thingy after three months of carrying it, or something like that. Skewbic, ever the artsy-fartsy artiste, added a nice touch to the other Hash Thingy, a string of blue lights.

A few hashers were late getting back to the festivities after they stopped at an impromptu beer re-group at Mud Guard's house. Actually, it apparently wasn't Mud Guard's idea. Dreary talked him into it. But then the Hugging Man, speeding away in his super-ugly tights, got half a block ahead of Mud Guard and claimed he didn't hear that there definitely was a beer re-group. So Dreary got a Hash Thingy for it.

Poor Dreary.

On On!
Duke of Hurl

The End
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